


A Birthday To Remember

by laschatzi



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:49:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3570278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laschatzi/pseuds/laschatzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian's birthday is just around the corner, and he isn't too happy that Emma has accidentally found out about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Birthday To Remember

_**A Birthday To Remember** _

 

 

Emma smiled to herself as she was watching Hook lighting a cozy fire. He was hunkered down on the floor in front of the fireplace and working very meticulously, while he was piling up logs and brushwood. Unconsciously, she licked her lips while observing the muscles of his back and shoulders twitch and roll underneath the cotton of his long-sleeved, dark blue t-shirt, when his voice woke her from her daydreams.

 

“Enjoying the view, are we, Swan?” he asked without turning around, and she could hear the smirk in his voice.

 

“Oh yes,” she replied smoothly, “this is one of the things I like best about this apartment.”

 

Now he looked over his shoulder, and once more she was stunned by the sight; his handsome face was a little flushed, and a few beads of sweat were glistening on his forehead, due to the heat of the already cackling fire, and a strand of raven black hair had fallen over his brow. The glow of the flames conjured auburn sparks. An amused smile creased the fine skin around his glittering blue eyes. “And what's that?” he teased. “That I'm living in it?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “The fireplace,” she clarified and motioned to the enormous amount of material. “Are you sure you want to put all that brushwood on top?”

 

Hook rose to his feet and stretched his lean body, much to her delight. “Now, love, _you_ of all people should really not be questioning my ability to...” – he smirked and rolled his tongue through his mouth – “... _light_ a fire.”

 

Emma opened her mouth for a spirited reply, but was interrupted: “Too much information,” came Henry's voice from behind; he was carrying plates and cutlery over from the kitchen area and started to set the table for dinner. She was careful to turn away her face from her son; he didn't need to see her blushing.

 

The pirate pointed his ringed index finger at him. “One day you'll be grateful for my advice about the fair ladies, m'boy.”

 

The boy crinkled his nose. “Ewwww, Killian.” He rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen area to get glasses and napkins.

 

“Snap out of it, Hook!” Emma scolded and slapped his chest a little roughly.

 

Taken by surprise, he stumbled from the little blow and steadied himself with his elbow against the mantlepiece. Something clattered and fell, and with a quick, instinctive move she caught the item in her hand. It was his brass spyglass that usually sat there.

 

“Oh, I'm sorry!” she gasped. “I almost...”

 

“It's okay,” he interrupted and took the optical device from her hand. “Nothing happened. See?” With a deft, experienced move he opened it. “These don't break easily.”

 

“Thank God.” She leaned a little over to examine it closely and frowned after a second. "Oh, Killian, I never noticed there are your initials engraved, next to a date!"

 

He seemed a little embarrassed by her remark. "M-hm..." Suddenly clumsy, he fumbled with his hook in an attempt to close the spyglass and put it away again, but she took it from his hand.

 

"What date is this?" she wanted to know.

 

Hook scratched behind his ear. "Just a random date,” he waved her off, “none of importance, really."

 

Emma cocked her head and gave him her _don't-even-try_ -look. "Seriously?! Why would anyone engrave a _random_ date next to your initials on a spyglass?" she asked pointedly.

 

He rolled his eyes. "It was a gift,” he told her impatiently. “My brother gave it to me after I became Lieutenant."

 

Immediately, her expression softened, like always when he revealed something, and if it was only the tiniest, most random detail of his past. Especially when it was about his brother; she knew the story about his tragic loss. "That's very sweet,” she replied with a smile. “I'm glad you got it back, then." He smiled feebly, and she turned her attention back to the spyglass in her hand. "So, then this is the date you were made Lieutenant?"

 

"Uh... not exactly, no..." He scratched behind his ear again, clearly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking. It fueled her curiosity even more, of course. "It's..." He let his voice trail off like he didn't know how to continue and waved his hand vaguely.

 

Suddenly, Emma's eyes widened in realization. "Your birthday?” she exclaimed. “This is your _birthday_ , right?"

 

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. "Aye,” he then admitted reluctantly. “Liam gave it to me for my first birthday after I became Lieutenant. Are you satisfied now?"

 

She stared at him in disbelief. "Why didn't you say anything?!"

 

He raised his eyebrow. "Say what?”he asked in an annoyed tone. “How would it be of any interest how I got this spyglass?"

 

Emma shook her head. "You know what I mean.” She waved the spyglass in his face. “Your birthday! It's next Friday!"

 

“Whose birthday?” Henry piped up again.

 

She whirled around to her son. “His!” Carefully, she put the spyglass back on the mantlepiece again.

 

“Cool!” the boy exclaimed with a beam.

 

Hook raised his hand impatiently. "So what?” he growled, a little impatient now. “That day is of no importance to me."

 

"I could have got you a gift!" Emma pointed out.

 

He shook his head. "I don't need any gift. I have already everything I ever needed."

 

"We could have organized a party!" Henry threw in, and Emma nodded fiercely. She remembered how sad and lonely her own birthdays had always been, and she herself had mostly tried to ignore them, to pretend that it didn't matter that there was never anyone to celebrate with, to care enough about her to even know; she understood all these mechanisms he was displaying, had elevated them to an art form herself. But once she'd found herself in the middle of a bunch of family and friends who had shown her that they _did_ care, that had changed. Obviously, he wasn't fully aware of the fact that things had changed for him, too.

 

He waved his hand in a refusing manner. "I don't need a celebration either, lad, really. Besides, I can't think of anyone who'd be interested in such shenanigans."

 

“Spoilsport,” Henry muttered under his breath and shuffled away again.

 

"I would love to see you blow out the 347 candles on the cake, though," Emma teased, hoping to lighten the atmosphere a little.

 

Hook cocked an eyebrow at her. "Isn't it considered bad form in this realm to mock a man about his age, Swan?"

 

She nudged his arm playfully. "Come on, you love when I do that.” Leaning a little closer into him, she added in a lower voice: “...and when you can prove your youthful glow and the good form you're in."

 

He tilted his head with a grin. "Touché." But obviously, he was still a bit distracted by the subject. "Regardless, you can mock me in private,” he went on. “I really don't want any ado about this, Swan." He pulled her in his arms. "I'd much rather spend the evening with you and Henry and a game of dice."

 

"Only because you cheat,” she replied and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Well, Henry will be babysitting his uncle next weekend, but I'm sure we'll find a game we can play by two."

 

“Really, guys?” Henry whined and put the huge wooden salad bowl on the table with a distinctively loud bang. “I'm losing my appetite.”

 

Hook chuckled and released Emma from his embrace. “I'll get the stew,” he announced and went to the stove.

 

Henry threw his mother a questioning glance. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking, mom?”

 

She frowned. “What do you mean?” she asked back innocently.

 

“Mom!” he hissed. “It's Killian's _birthday!_ ”

 

“You heard him,” she replied in a hushed tone. “He doesn't want us to make a fuss.”

 

Henry grinned. “You _are_ thinking what I'm thinking.”

 

Emma threw a quick look in Hook's direction and lowered her voice, so that only Henry could hear her. “When we finish dinner,” she told him in a conspiratorial tone, “you're gonna call your grandparents.”

 

The boy's grin widened. “Let's see... operation spyglass?”

 

She just winked.

 

***

A few hours later, Emma left the bathroom to find Hook sitting on the edge of their bed, obviously lost in thought; she could tell from the expression on his face that seemed like he was in some distant time, at a faraway place. He was ready for bed; he'd taken off his hook and changed into his usual sleep attire: a long-sleeved t-shirt, of course with a devastatingly deep v-neck, and soft, black sweatpants. Normally, he preferred to sleep in his stunning birth suit, but when Henry was home that wasn't really possible, so he'd developed the routine of t-shirt and sweats. But when the boy was at Regina's – or occasionally babysitting Emma's infant brother – , Hook gladly gave in to the urge to sleep naked, much to her delight.

 

“Killian?” she addressed him softly and closed the bathroom door with a determined click. “Are you alright?”

 

Briefly, he rubbed his hand over his face; he'd been caught in long-forgotten memories of an endless row of birthdays gone by, so many that he'd actually almost forgotten about the date. But of course, his Swan had had to poke about it and bring all those painful memories back – memories of the only person who'd ever cared about him: Liam. He knew she meant well, but he really hoped she would drop the subject. Now, her voice woke him from his thoughts. “Ah... yes, love, I'm...” He focused on her and fell silent when he saw her, forgetting what he'd been about to say.

 

Emma was wearing one of his dark navy blue shirts; he noticed that it was the one he'd been wearing during the day and just thrown it on top of the laundry basket in the bathroom when he'd changed into something more comfortable in the evening. She'd left open even more buttons than he usually did, and he could see the white lace edge of her bra peek out. Bloody hell, she knew what it was doing to him when she wore one of his shirts. Suddenly, his mouth was dry and he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

 

Then his eyes darted to her face, and he frowned. Her expression was all sultry smiles, but there was also something else laying underneath, something he couldn't pinpoint. When she caught his gaze, she combed her hair behind her ears with both hands and licked her lips in an almost nervous looking gesture. “What?” she asked.

 

He tilted his head and scrutinized her closely. “You look like you're up to no good.”

 

“I am!” she replied and sauntered over to him. That threw him off track for a moment – which was probably her goal, he thought at the back of his head. _Pirate tactics._

 

His eyebrows shot up. “Are you trying to beat me in my own game?”

 

Emma's lips curved into a wicked smile. “And which one's that?” She steadied herself on his shoulders with both hands and rested her knees on his left and right, lowering herself slowly on his lap. “The one that starts out with you throwing your innuendos and ends with me on my back?”

 

Automatically, he put his hand and his scarred wrist to her waist. “Ah... actually, uhm...” he stuttered and tried to pull himself together and activate the brain cells that worked his speech center. “No, I didn't mean that one.”

 

She ran her hands through his already messy hair, lightly grazing her short fingernails over his scalp. “Then which one?” she purred and bent down to kiss the side of his neck. The silky strands of her hair fell on the back of his hand and tickled him.

 

By now, his brain was completely fogged and his voice hoarse. “I admit I'm a little confused...”

 

Emma chuckled against his skin. “Must be the age taking its toll...”

 

Hook's grip around her waist tightened, and when she pulled a little back to look into his eyes, they had grown dark and cobalt blue, glittering with mischief. Within seconds, she was on her back and he between her thighs, pinning her down on the mattress. “You were saying?” he teased in a deep, husky voice with a mean twinkle in his eyes, while his hand glided up and started to unbutton the shirt.

 

She smiled and slid her hands under his t-shirt, up his muscular back and enjoyed the feeling of the warm, smooth skin against her palms. “Nothing,” she breathed and rolled her hips upwards against his. “I can feel your... youthful glow.”

 

Neither of them wasted any thought on his upcoming birthday that night.

 

***

The following days, Hook was watching Emma even more closely than usual, always suspiciously searching her face for any hints that she might be hiding something from him; he knew his Swan: when she had set her mind on something, normally she'd make it happen, come hell or high water. But as close as he looked at her and Henry and everybody else – everything seemed to be normal. She never spoke about his birthday again, the lad seemed to have forgotten about it the next day, Emma's father was as grumpy as ever with him, and the princess bandit sassed him even a little more than usual. It seemed like, this time, Emma had actually decided to respect his wishes. And, of course, she'd realized that he was right – nobody would have been interested in a celebration anyway.

 

The day before Hook's birthday, David showed up at their apartment in the morning, when they were just getting ready to leave for the sheriff's station.

 

“Dad!” Emma was surprised. “We were just leaving. Has anything happened?”

 

“No, no,” he replied, “but I need you to handle the office alone today. I have to go into the forest today and chop some wood.” he shrugged. “Your mother insisted,” he added quickly when he saw his daughter's frown.

 

Hook chuckled. “The joys of married life,” he snickered.

 

David addressed him a little sourly: “Actually, I was going to ask you to share that joy.”

 

“Why, I'm truly flattered, mate,” Hook replied smoothly and raised a cocky eyebrow, “but polygamy isn't really my thing.”

 

Emma glared at him and elbowed him roughly, to which he didn't even flinch, and David huffed. “To chop the wood, pirate,” he growled.

 

Hook wasn't too thrilled, but after a half-amused, half-urging look from Emma he agreed without further ado and left with David. So an hour later, he found himself deep in the forest around Storybrooke, an axe in his hand. As he couldn't manoeuver it with two hands, Emma's father took to chopping the bigger chunks, whereas Hook did the finer work, splitting the wood up into neat logs. Although the temperatures were rather chilly and their breath was forming little clouds, pretty soon they started sweating and had to take off their jackets and roll up their sleeves. Working hard and mostly in amicable silence, shortly past noon they had already managed to chop a neat pile of wood. They loaded it neatly in the bed of David's truck and decided to take a break before cutting a little more and also a bit for Hook and Emma. David brought out the sandwiches Mary Margaret had packed for them and handed the pirate a bottle of beer.

 

Hook groaned when he stretched himself, cracked his spine and took the bottle from David's hand. “This is travail,” he growled.

 

David shrugged. “As much as we all appreciate the comforts of this realm, Mary Margaret always says there's nothing like a cackling fire when it's cold outside.”

 

Hook tilted his head. “Your lovely wife is absolutely right, mate.” He snorted a little laugh and took a sip from his bottle. “Not everything was bad back in our world.”

 

David cleared his throat. “Do you miss it sometimes?” he asked unexpectedly.

 

Hook frowned and threw him a suspicious look from under his thick eyebrows. “Come again?”

 

“Your old life,” David explained and waved his hand in an all-encompassing, strangely very hook-ish way. “The sea. Don't you regret that you gave it all up? I mean, after you traded your ship for Emma...”

 

Damn, where did _this_ come from all of a sudden? Hook felt a pang of anger about the insinuation shoot through him and flashed the prince a glare. “Don't say anything else, mate,” he growled through gritted teeth. “You know bloody well that I would do _exactly_ the same again if it ever were necessary, and I surely don't repent of...”

 

“Oh, no!” David interrupted hastily and raised his hands in a soothing way. “I didn't mean it like that. Of course you don't.” Hook fell silent and scrutinized him closely; only the twitching muscle along his clenched jawline betrayed his tension. After a moment, Emma's father continued in a firm, determined voice: “I don't think I ever gave you credit for that.”

 

That had been even more unexpected; Hook looked down at his beer bottle and tilted his head, but replied nothing. He only looked up when David started to talk again. “You should know I will be forever grateful to you... mate.” David raised his bottle to him.

 

Hook cocked his eyebrow and carefully scratched behind his ear with his hook; he was very well aware of the fact that this was the first time the prince had called him _mate_ without a mocking undertone to it. Finally, he nodded his head once and touched his bottle to David's with a gentle _clink_ ; when he put it to his lips to drink, the corners of his mouth twitched into a barely perceptible smile.

 

David cleared his throat again. “Hey, I was thinking...” he shrugged casually. “For tomorrow, I have planned to take Henry fishing. I've rented a little boat. Maybe you'd like to join us?”

 

Hook tilted his head and threw him an ironic glance in a not very successful attempt to cover up that he was actually touched by the offer. “You?” he replied dryly. “On a boat?” He popped the 't' a little and crinkled his nose. “For Emma's and your lovely wife's sake I have no choice, obviously. I'll steer your boat and make sure that you don't get yourself and the lad drowned.”

 

***

When Emma got home that evening, she quickly scanned the apartment and found only Henry on the couch playing with his x-box.

 

“Hey kid,” she greeted him, “Killian not home yet?”

 

“Bathtub,” he replied monosyllabically without even looking up.

 

Emma thought she'd heard wrong. “Are you kidding me?!” Since Hook had discovered the modern world's wonder of showering, he'd really gotten into it and celebrated it every morning, using a ridiculous amount of hot water. Not that she'd mind, though – at least not on those days when she joined him.

 

Henry chuckled. “When he got back he said he needed a hot bath, and that chopping wood had made him all achy.”

 

They shared a conspiratorial grin, and then blurted out in unison: “ _Old man!_ ”

 

After their laughter had calmed down, Emma asked: “So, did you get anything done?”

 

“Yep.” Henry busied himself with his x-box again. “Operation Spyglass is running smoothly. I checked off the whole list Grandpa gave me.”

 

“Excellent.” Emma nodded. “And Mary Margaret and Granny are taking care of the food.”

 

“Oh, and Grandpa also got him to agree to the fishing trip,” Henry added. “Just had to scratch his ego a bit.”

 

“That shouldn't have been difficult,” Emma replied dryly and headed for the spiral staircase leading to the bedrooms upstairs. “Let me just change into something more comfortable, and then I'll fix dinner.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Henry just replied absentmindedly and then called after her: “Stay away from the bathroom!”

 

***

On the morning of Hook's birthday, he braced himself for the congratulations from Emma and Henry that would surely come; but surprisingly enough, neither of the two mentioned anything. The lad ushered him without further ado to hurry up and get ready, because David would be there early to pick them up; obviously, Henry was quite excited for the fishing trip. Emma just nudged him playfully before she left for work and told him to take good care of his crew; not the slightest hint at his birthday either, just like he had requested. Just like he'd thought, nobody gave a damn bloody thing about it anyway. Fine, then. All the better.

 

When David showed up to pick them up, he half feared, half expected a remark from him – surely, either Emma or Henry hadn't been able to keep quiet about his birthday, and David surely wouldn't let the occasion pass to mock him. But the prince acted as usually, half-detached, half-grumpy, and Hook was really glad that he didn't have to deal with any stupid remarks from him either, thank you very much. Like, _really_ glad.

 

When they'd reached the harbor, David fetched the key from the harbormaster and led Hook and Henry to a modestly dimensioned, but pretty little sloop. Hook eyed it suspiciously from the mole, parading along it a few times, obviously checking out every detail.

 

“Well, does it pass the inspection?” David asked in an amused voice.

 

“That's a neat little vessel,” Hook finally commented. “It will do for today. But,” he motioned towards the stern of the boat, "what's that, letters and numbers? Where's the name?"

 

David shrugged. "I guess it doesn't have one. That's its license code."

 

Hook crinkled his nose in disgust. "A license code?” he echoed, his voice expressing his disbelief and rightful indignation. “No name? That's bad form. A vessel with a helm, however small it may be, needs a name. A _license code!_ " he repeated with a disdainful snort.

 

Henry tried to hide his grin, and David rolled his eyes. "Yeah well, sorry it doesn't meet your standards, Hook,” he snapped. “The question is, can you sail it?"

 

Hook cocked his eyebrows at him. "Of course I can, mate,” he replied almost arrogantly. “The vessel I cannot captain has yet to be built."

 

They finally boarded the little boat and took off without further ado; David was quite impressed with the way Hook moved on deck. From the moment he'd set foot on board, he acted with instinctive assurance. His commands to David and Henry were short, but clear and effective, and soon they were heading to open water. When they were far enough in the open, they cast anchor and spent a few hours there. David secretly watched his daughter's pirate boyfriend, and the expression on his face told him that someone was having a really enjoyable birthday. They had sandwiches for lunch, and in the late afternoon they decided to turn around and head home.

 

When they weren't far from Storybrooke, Hook beckoned Henry over with a wave of his hand. "Come over here, m'boy," he called, "you've been lazy long enough!"

 

Henry grinned and feigned protest before he joined the pirate at the helm. "Take it," Hook ordered, stepping aside, and the boy gripped the steering wheel. "Just keep her in line," Hook told him, bent a little forward and pointed his arm at a point at the horizon. "See that black spot over there? That's Storybrooke. Bring us home."

 

"Wait," Henry replied hastily when his mother's boyfriend turned his leather-clad back on him after a short nod, "you'd better stay by..."

 

"No need," Hook waved him off. "You got this." When he saw the lad's slightly worried expression he stopped once more in his move and turned to him again. "I let your father steer the Jolly Roger more than once when he was about your age," he said, and Henry's eyes flew to him curiously. "He did quite a decent job," he went on and gently slapped the boy's shoulder, "and so will you."

 

After one last reassuring nod he left him alone at the helm, turned around and sauntered over to David. The prince was expecting him with a freshly opened bottle of beer and remarked in an amused tone: "So, you trust Henry to steer this boat, but not me?"

 

Hook took the beer and tilted his head. "I've seen you at the helm of the Jolly Roger, mate. Need I say more?"

 

"Hey! We were struggling against _sirens_ and the curses of Neverland!" David defended himself.

 

"It's okay, Dave," the pirate replied with a mocking grin, "it's not for everyone. You're good with horses."

 

"And you're a jerk," David growled benevolently, and Hook chuckled.

 

"He's one fine lad," he then remarked and threw the boy an affectionate glance.

 

"He is," David confirmed and refrained from commenting on how much he approved of Hook and Henry getting along so well, because he knew the pirate wasn't really good with accepting anything that smelled like a compliment. So he just added: "He's having a great time."

 

"Which was the point," Hook replied and raised his bottle to David.

 

David mirrored the gesture and nodded. "Which was the point." He cleared his throat. "So, any special plans for tonight?" he asked nonchalantly.

 

Hook's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Special plans?” he echoed. “What do you mean? Why would I have special plans?"

 

The prince shrugged. "Well, Henry won't be home, right? He'll be babysitting Neal while Mary Margaret and I are going out for a little dance. I just assumed you and Emma would go out too or something."

 

"Oh, that.” The pirate pursed his lips and tilted his head. “No, I don't think so. We like it cozy: a cackling fire, hot cocoa with rum..."

 

"Rum?” David repeated in an amused voice. “What happened to cinnamon?"

 

Hook cocked his eyebrow and smirked. "We like to spice it up a little.” He leaned over and lowered his voice in an exaggeratedly conspiratorial, teasing way and added: “...especially when a cackling fire is involved."

 

David rolled his eyes and waved him off. "Spare me the details. Well, I just hope you're not thwarted."

 

"Thwarted?” Hook pierced Emma's father with his suspicious, steely blue stare. “Why would you say that?"

 

"Oh, no particular reason,” the prince replied nonchalantly. “But you know what they say about best laid plans." Hook smirked and moistened his lips, and David quickly warned: "Don't even _think_ about it."

 

Suddenly, a chilly breeze made the waves a little bumpier and shook the boat a little. Hook threw a glance over to the lad and saw that Henry was obviously struggling with the helm. When he couldn't seem to handle it, he called out: "Killian! I can't hold it!"

 

Hook rushed over to the boy, but didn't take the helm from him. "Let go!” he told him and waved his hand. “Just let go!"

 

“What?!” Henry threw him a disbelieving glance. "But..."

 

Hook told him in a reassuring voice: "No, trust me, it's fine.” He put his hand firmly to Henry's right arm. “Always handle the helm gently, m'boy." Reluctantly, Henry loosened his grip a little, and the polished wood slipped out of his sweaty hands and started to turn slowly; the boats, now without guidance, moved a little more calmly and without shaking and started to adapt to the waves, making a wide turn. "You can't fight against the sea,” Hook explained, “you always have to go with the flow. That means, sometimes you have to let loose and trust your ship."

 

Henry was eyeing the now ghostly moving helm suspiciously. "I was afraid I'd completely lose grip..."

 

Hook nudged the boy's shoulder lightly. "Oh no, don't be. That's not happening." He pointed his ringed index finger to the helm that was turning more slowly now. "Watch,” he told him. “You let her find her way, and when she does..." The boat had made a large, but neat curve, and the helm became guidable again and started to tremble a little aimlessly; Hook smiled at Henry and caught it firmly. "...you're here to catch her."

 

Henry nodded and grinned. “Is that how you caught my mom?”

 

Hook threw him a surprised glance. That little smartass! He scratched behind ear and snorted a little laugh. "Well, you see, lad, a ship is very much like a woman."

 

He resisted the urge to ruffle the boy's hair and, after making sure he felt safe again, left him alone in charge of the helm for another bit. Only after the harbor of Storybrooke came in sight, he took the helm again, not without reassuring him he'd done a neat job.

 

“Guys, can we go directly to grab dinner at Granny's?” Henry suggested when they passed the harbor entrance.

 

“Oh, I don't know,” David replied reluctantly, “your grandmother has probably already fixed something.”

 

“But it's still early!” the boy whined. “We can call her, and she can meet us right there. Mom too!”

 

“Hmmm, I have to say, I'm actually starving,” David admitted and addressed Hook: “What do you think?”

 

Hook never took his eyes off of the approaching mole, stayed fully concentrated and therefore missed the furtive glances Emma's father and son were exchanging. “Fine with me,” he answered, “I don't think Emma would object.”

 

“Then it's settled,” David nodded. “I'll call them. Or do you want to call Emma?” he asked Hook.

 

“I'm a little busy here, mate,” the pirate replied dryly.

 

“He doesn't have his phone with him,” Henry chuckled. “He still doesn't like it.”

 

“Hey, I'm still adapting to this realm,” Hook growled, but a grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It makes me jump every time it goes off in my pocket.”

 

“Oh, that's okay, Hook,” David commented smoothly. “Modern times aren't for everyone. You're good with boats.” With a devilish glee he withstood Hook's glare and pulled out his own phone to call first Mary Margaret and then Emma. Both women agreed to meet them at Granny's diner.

 

When the boat was safely berthed and the three of them had gotten off, David returned the key to the harbormaster, and Hook grumpily murmured something about it being a shame that a good boat should remain nameless. Outside Granny's, Mary Margaret and Emma were waiting for them, with baby Neal sitting in his stroller.

 

“Great idea,” Mary Margaret commented and wrapped her arm around Henry's shoulder while David took the stroller, “I really didn't feel like cooking before our dancing evening out.”

 

“Hey, wait,” Emma held her boyfriend back when her parents and Henry entered the diner. “Let me greet you properly”, she added with a smile when he turned around to look at her with a question in his eyes. She pulled him closer, and his face lit up when she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his in a long, lingering kiss.

 

“What was that for?” he asked, a spark dancing in his eyes.

 

“What, are you complaining?” she teased and let her fingers run up and down the lapels of his leather jacket. “This was the second day in a row we spent apart. I missed you.”

 

Hook was thrilled with such an open display of affection; although she'd become much easier around him, this still wasn't something she was all too generous with. He tightened his embrace around her waist. “I shall make up for it later, I promise,” he replied in a husky voice, “ _repeatedly._ ”

 

She leaned a little more into him. “Why don't we go home right now?” she suggested and actually wiggled her eyebrows at him. “They won't even notice.”

 

He tilted his head. “No, that would be bad form, Swan,” he replied, even if a little reluctantly. “Let your father and the lad spin their yarns for you. And, I must admit,” he added, “I'm actually a bit hungry.”

 

Emma grinned with a shrug. “As you wish.”

 

He chuckled, and they walked towards the entrance of the diner arm in arm. When they'd entered it, Hook's first thought was _why is it so crowded today_ , and his second thought was uttered aloud:

 

“What the bloody hell...”

 

The diner _was_ actually crowded with people, and weirdly enough, they started cheering as if on cue when Hook and Emma came in. The second thing that caught his eye when he stood rooted to the spot, was a huge banner hanging from the ceiling above the counter that read in capital letters:

 

_H A P P Y B I R T H D A Y H O O K_

 

“Surprise!” the crowd yelled, and Hook tore his incredulous stare from the banner and looked at the people who were obviously the guests of a surprise party – _his_ surprise party. Apart from the family who had been joined by Regina and Belle, he saw most of the fairies including Tinkerbell, Marco, Aurora, Hopper, Whale – hell, even the bloody dwarves were there, and they cheered, whistled and applauded with all the others right into his shocked face.

 

He spun around on his heels to look at Emma. “What the bloody hell is this?!” he barely managed to get out. “Did you...”

 

His sneaky Swan just grinned and shrugged. “Looks like you're everybody's favorite pirate now.”

 

“But I...”

 

David appeared at his side and shoved a glass of beer into his hand: “Happy birthday, Hook.”

 

His mouth was literally hanging open, and he replied incredulously, with an almost admiring undertone: “You're one sneaky bastard, mate!”

 

David grinned and raised his glass to him. “Never underestimate a charming face.”

 

Emma laughed and gave her pirate a little push, stepping back and giving him opportunity and space to immerge into the crowd; immediately, he was surrounded by people who toasted to him and slapped his back. A few of the elder people even hugged him, leaving him completely flabbergasted, and so did Aurora and Belle. Ruby couldn't resist to leave a bright red lipstick mark on his cheek. Granny brought out the food, and everybody ate and drank and chatted, and the whole diner was noisy and buzzing with activity. Hook had to answer questions about his actual age quite a few times, and was teased about it even more often, and the puns about hooks and hands became worse the more beer flowed; but it all happened in a very amicable way. What surprised him the most was that people actually approached him, talked to him and laughed with him, and the whole time Emma was not at his side. They actually seemed to look for _his_ company, as if he was more than just the Savior's barely tolerated boyfriend.

 

Almost an hour later, he found himself left alone on his bar stool for a moment, his mind still blown and his head buzzing, and smiled down into his beer when he felt a hand on his thigh. He looked up and saw his Swan scrutinizing him, her perfect mouth curved into a barely perceptible smile. “Hey. You okay?” she asked.

 

He tilted his head. “Quite.” She was distracted for a moment by the sight of his ringer thumb painting patterns into the moistness that had been forming on the outside of the beer glass. “I've been well fed, toasted to and entertained.”

 

She grinned and stroked his thigh almost absentmindedly with her thumb. "Now tell me, was that so bad?" she wanted to know.

 

He snorted a little laugh and scratched behind his ear. "I've had worse days," he conceded.

 

Emma rolled her eyes. "You even enjoyed it a little, admit it."

 

He turned his eyes to her. "Aye," he finally admitted reluctantly.

 

She linked her right arm through his left and let her fingertips rest on the leather sheath that held his hook. "Then why were you so against it?"

 

He looked down at her hand and brushed his fingertips over the back. "Well, perhaps I didn't know what to expect."

 

Emma nudged him playfully. "Don't tell me you never had a birthday celebration," she teased.

 

He tilted his head again. "Not like that. The only one who ever even remembered my birthday, was my brother.” He crinkled his nose and grinned, and there was a hint of melancholy flowing over his face. “He would always say he could never forget the day that annoying little shit came into his life and turned it upside down.” He snorted a very small laugh, and Emma didn't reply. She let him continue. He shrugged. “Nobody else ever cared about that day or about me. So, whenever I think of my birthday...” He turned his gaze to her face, a sad little smile creasing the skin around his eyes, and added: “I think of him."

 

"And that hurts," Emma finally said softly, and he nodded his head once. "Well, then maybe it was time to create some happier memories to relate to that day?" she suggested and leaned into him, offering comfort.

 

His eyes swept over the chattering assembly of Storybrooke inhabitants; more than just a few of them would have preferred to see him dead or tied up and rotting in a brig two mere years ago. “I'd never have expected anyone to care,” he remarked, his voice still filled with disbelief and something else... peacefulness? Maybe joy, even.

 

Briefly, Emma put her hand to his scruffy cheek and, when he turned his face to her again, looked him deep in the eyes. “And I knew they would,” she told him quietly.

 

He caught her hand and stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb, sending delightful shivers down her spine. “What you say, we leave this place and head home and start our own...” – he paused for a moment to run his tongue along the inside of his lower lip – “... _celebration?_ ”

 

“Easy, tiger,” she replied with a cheeky grin, “the best is yet to come.”

 

She motioned her head towards the kitchen door where Granny, with the help of Mary Margaret, emerged carrying an enormously huge cake. Huffing and moaning, they put it on a table in the center of the room; people cheered and applauded. Hook was speechless when he felt Emma's hand in his back, pushing him over to the table. The cake actually had a huge _hook_ made of marzipan on top and was decorated with three candles. Many of the guests had surrounded the table and were looking at him expectantly.

 

Hook rubbed his hand over his mouth and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Three candles? Why?”

 

“Oh, come on,” David replied dryly, “I thought it was obvious. One for each century.” Everybody laughed.

 

“Why, aren't you a true jester, mate,” Hook grumbled, but it was clearly benevolent.

 

“Come on, he's just joking,” Emma commented and nudged her lover's arm playfully. “We just couldn't find a cake big enough for all those candles.”

 

He turned to her and gave her a piercing stare from underneath his raised eyebrows, but she could see the amusement about her sass lingering in the corners of his gorgeous eyes. She grinned cheekily with starry eyes and moved closer to him, wrapping her right arm around his waist underneath his leather jacket. “Sorry, I couldn't resist.”

 

He bent a little down to brush his lips over her temple and then replied in a low voice, but loud enough that everybody could hear him: “You _never_ can, love.”

 

The crowed cheered and whistled, and Emma blushed a little, but laughed along. She slapped his arm. “Go and blow out your candles, pirate.”

 

"Blow out the candles? That's a little puerile, don't you think?"

 

"Come on, don't be a spoilsport!" Mary Margaret scolded.

 

Hook rolled his eyes, but didn't dare to object. "Make a wish," Emma quickly told him when he bent down to blow out the candles. The guests clapped and cheered. and he shuffled his feet a little, still not over the fact that there were so many people here because of him, to celebrate with him. Obviously, his Swan was right, and he was indeed everybody's favorite pirate. He admitted to himself that it wasn't an unpleasant thought to be regarded as valued member of this society – to be _part of something._

 

"Well done, Hook," David commented with a grin.

 

He scratched behind his ear. "Well... I never expected" – he tilted his head and glanced at Emma – "and never even _wanted_ anything like this, but... let me just say I appreciate it, mate." Someone snorted clearly audibly, and of course it was Leroy. Hook grinned and waved his hand in an all-encompassing way. "And _everyone_."

 

He fell silent again, letting his gaze sweep over the guests. There was not one hostile look directed at him, not even an indifferent one – they were all friendly or at least benevolent. Even the dwarves nodded in grim appreciation. It was like he really _belonged_ there – not only with Emma, Henry and the rest of her family, but right _there_ : this location, this town, these people. He heard David clear his throat and turned to him again.

 

"We got you something," Emma's father said and stretched out his hand, a small metal object attached to a black leather ribbon dangling from his right index finger. It was a key. Hook frowned and looked at him questioningly. David exchanged a quick glance with his wife and grinned. The pirate didn't see the conspiratorial smiles Emma and Henry shared or how several of the guests secretly elbowed each other.

 

But he did notice a subtle change of the atmosphere; had there been a vivid chattering among the guests before, now they were all silent except for a few furtive whispers, as if they seemed to wait for something. He looked at David again who wiggled his finger.

 

"It's for you," he repeated.

 

Slowly, Hook reached out and slipped the leather ribbon from David's finger. "A key," he stated unnecessarily and with a slight question in his voice.

 

"The key to the cabin of the boat we boarded today," David explained.

 

Hook raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked at Henry who beamed at him and nodded; the lad's grin was infectious. "Ah, so you've organized another sailing trip?" he asked with a smile and a little confusion in his voice. David just shook his head; someone of the guests, from the sound it was Ruby, giggled. Slowly, Hook was getting a little impatient, because it dawned on him that everybody else seemed to know what was going on, and he didn't. To be honest, he was not really fond of surprises; mostly, they'd turned out badly for him in the past. Except for the day a blonde warrior princess had bested him with her gumption and her badass attitude, of course.

 

Finally, David obviously decided to rescue him and shed some light on the mystery and cleared his throat again. "You're a pirate," he said, and Hook narrowed his eyes, "and a pirate should have a ship. You gave up yours, and..." the prince tilted his head towards Emma, "even if your motives were rather personal, you pretty much saved everyone in this town." That had been unexpected; Hook scratched behind his ear again in that embarrassed way of his and looked at his Swan, but Emma just returned the look with a knowing smile, her arms crossed. "So we all thought," David went on and motioned to the key that was dangling from Hook's ringed index finger now, "that you should have at least a boat."

 

The pirate frowned again and scrutinized the small key in his hand, then looked at David again, still clueless. The prince couldn't master his self-satisfied grin any longer and added: "It's yours." Hook licked his lips in total confusion, and David explained patiently: "The nameless boat. It's yours now."

 

The pirate stared at him with his mouth hanging open. "You... are giving me a _boat_?!"

 

" _We_ ," David emphasized and swayed out his arm in a gesture that included everyone of the guests. Hook kept staring, and David ran his hand through his hair. "I know it's not the Jolly Roger, but it has a helm and a sail." He grinned. “And, maybe, soon a name.”

 

Hook looked at Emma, still dumbfounded. "You know anything about this?"

 

She shrugged, a girlish smile on her face. "I'm the sheriff, Hook. It's my job to know things."

 

He swallowed once, twice, his throat incredibly dry all of a sudden, and let his gaze sweep over the guests again. "I... I don't know what to say..." he stuttered.

 

"Must be a first," David replied dryly, and several of the guests laughed. " _Thank you_ would be a nice take, but it's not mandatory," he added with soft irony, and slowly, the pirate's scruffy face broke into a huge grin.

 

"Bloody hell," he murmured, and everyone started to laugh and cheer.

 

***

Much later in the evening, when they were finally home alone, he still had barely recovered from the day's experience. He was overwhelmed, to say the least, in a most surreal kind of way. He would have bet his life that – except maybe Emma's parents – nobody else in Storybrooke would have cared about him or his birthday. Yes, they all seemed to be tolerating him by now, but of course he'd assumed that was only because he was the boyfriend of the Savior, the royal princess. Other than that, he'd been sure, to most of them he was still nothing but a pirate – selfish, cunning, ruthless. Looked like he'd been wrong. Of course his happiness didn't depend on whether people liked him or what they thought of him – but to see that they actually did appreciate him, even care about him, hell, _accept_ him as one of their own... that _was_ overwhelming.

 

And his Swan was responsible for all this.

 

As soon as the door had fallen closed behind them, he pulled her in his arms and kissed her until she gasped for breath. “And what was that for?” she asked with a happy laugh.

 

“Thank you,” he simply replied, “for what you did today. Or, as I probably should say, for what you've been plotting all week.” His mouth curved into a fond, admiring smile. “Like a true pirate.”

 

“I gladly accept the reward,” she teased back and grinned a little sheepishly, “but I had help. Lots of it. Everybody contributed. Because they _care_.” She put her hand to his scruffy cheek.

 

“But you were responsible for it,” he insisted and, with a quick turn of his face, pressed a kiss to her palm. "You never cease to amaze me, Swan." She smiled with emerald fire dancing in her eyes, and his embrace around her waist tightened while his eyes darkened a nuance; so did his voice. "Now I think I'd like to unwrap my gift."

 

Emma's eyebrows quirked. "Your gift?” she echoed. “You said that you didn't want one. Besides, you got a _boat!_ "

 

Hook pouted which caused her to erupt in a hearty, carefree laughter – a wonderful sound. “But I want something I can unwrap,” he whined. “The unwrapping is always the best part.”

 

“Come here, birthday boy,” she chuckled, flung her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a thorough kiss. Hook didn't need any further invitation; and so, they were kissing fervently, ardently, passionately while stumbling up the spiral staircase that led to the master bedroom, frantically tearing at each other's clothes, leaving a trail of garments behind.

 

By the time they had arrived at their bed, his vest and shirt were off, while Emma remained only clad in her underwear. They stopped for a moment, both breathing heavily, and he smiled almost diabolically down at her, running his fingertips up her bare left arm, along her collarbone and up her throat, until he could take her chin between his ringed thumb and index finger, lifting it up a little.

 

"I'm going to have my way with you now, Swan," he purred in his husky voice.

 

Emma's kiss-swollen lips curved into an almost triumphant smile. "Not if I have mine with you first."

 

Hook tilted his head. "I always appreciate when a woman says that." Emma shot him a death glare, and he corrected himself quickly: " _My_ woman. When _my woman_ says that." And _God,_ how good did it feel to say _that!_

 

“Careful, pirate,” she warned, an unmistakable tease in her voice. “I don't share.”

 

He smirked, enjoying that display of possessiveness from his swan. “Good.”

 

She lunged forward, and they kissed again; her impatient hands found the way to the front of his black jeans, and quickly, she unbuttoned them and pushed them down. Obviously, today was one of his _who-the-bloody-hell-needs-briefs_ -days. She rolled her eyes and grumbled: “I really wished you'd wear underwear sometimes.”

 

“No, you don't,” he contradicted with an amused chuckle. “And why would you?”

 

With a firm move, she pushed him down on the bed. “Enough with the smooth talk now,” she declared and straddled him unceremoniously.

 

Hook's eyes widened in eager anticipation and grew dark with unmistakable desire while his tongue moved restlessly behind his slightly parted lips. Emma enjoyed immensely to see and feel the effect she had on him: his body was already _more_ than ready for her, but she was going to draw this out as long as possible. It was supposed to be part of his memorable birthday celebration, after all. He put his hand and hook lightly to her hips and watched her climbing on top of him, absolutely mesmerized. With an almost triumphant smile and a devilish spark in her green eyes, she unhooked her bra, took it off extra slowly and dropped it to the floor. He drank in the sight of her, and almost automatically, his hand glided up over her side, obviously aiming for her exposed breast that seemed to be waiting for him, taut peak pointing in his direction in an almost challenging way. But with determination, she grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away.

 

“Not yet,” she told him firmly. She wouldn't let him distract her.

 

He grinned. “What are you going to do, Swan? Use your shackles again?”

 

“Oh no, that won't be necessary.” She bent forward and brought her lips close to his left ear, pressing her nude breasts to his bare chest. “If you know what's good for you, you stay put.” Her tongue flicked over his earlobe. “And I'm planning to make this _very_ good for you.”

 

He snorted a pleased little laugh, and Emma kissed the side of his throat and moved her lips down to his collarbone, lingering at the curve where his neck and his shoulder joined; she noticed with delight how his jugular vein beat a frantic rhythm against her lips and placed a gentle love bite there. She then kissed and nibbled along his left collarbone and flicked her tongue over the nook at the base of his throat where his collarbones met; his skin there was soft and tasted a little salty. Hook enjoyed her attentions and put his hand to her head, combing his fingers through her hair, messing it up completely.

 

“Like that, huh, Captain?” she murmured and glided further down along his body, her mouth wandering down along his sternum where she buried her nose in his chest hair and inhaled deeply. That was the spot where she always found his scent the most intense; she loved how his skin felt and smelled in these moments, before they really got it going, before things got feverish, sweaty and messy, although she loved that, too. His tanned skin was all warm and dry and flushed, the smell just wonderful and intoxicating. Without even being aware of it, Emma sighed deep in her throat, so deep that she was actually purring.

 

“What is that sound you're making?” he asked in an amused tone and raised his head to look at her probingly.

 

She smiled against his skin. "You smell so good. And you taste even better." Quickly, she darted her head to the side and flicked her tongue over his left nipple. “ _So_ good,” she added and gave him a soft little bite which caused him to gasp.

 

“You're a wicked little minx, Swan,” he rasped, and it wasn't a complaint at all.

 

Emma chuckled and slid from his lap, settling herself comfortably between his legs. “And I have magic,” she replied cheekily and started to rain open-mouthed kisses from his bellybutton along his treasure trail of dark hair leading to his pubic bone.

 

“Oh, bloody hell,” he groaned once he understood what she was going to do and slumped back on the pillow.

 

When she took him in her hand, she was as always mesmerized by the contrast between the steely rigidity of his flesh and the silky smoothness of the skin enveloping it, amazed by its immanent forceful strength and utter vulnerability at the same time. Slowly, she brushed her lips along the whole length, the feverish skin feeling like velvet to her touch. She couldn't resist lightly grazing her teeth over the satin surface and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. Emma smiled and licked her lips before she let her tongue dart out and playfully swirl around the tip for a moment before she closed her lips gently, but firmly around him. Slowly, achingly slowly she slid her mouth all the way down, taking him all in, determined to make this the ultimate mind blowing sensation for Hook. When she pulled back again, never reducing the pressure of her lips but intensifying it by hollowing her cheeks, she used her teeth once more, and that was the moment when she felt his hand at the back of her head, his fingers entangling in her hair and curling against her scalp. Above the rushing of her own blood she heard a clanking sound and knew that he had linked his hook to the headboard above his head, like he always did when things started out like this, getting ready for losing control. She smiled against his now moistened skin and started to move her head up and down, finding her rhythm.

 

She kept her moves sultry and lazy and moved not only her head, but let her whole body sway a little back and forth, her silky curls brushing over his lower abdomen and hips. With her eyes closed and her hands caressing his thighs, the gentle pressure of his fingers against the back of her head and the slight prickle at her scalp where he'd grasped her hair, this was an utterly sensual experience also for her, even if she was the giving part. Giving this kind of pleasure to the man she truly and deeply loved always aroused her own desire as well; something she'd never before experienced in that intensity.

 

Emma never let it get monotonous, but used every means to heighten the sensation, her fingers, lips, tongue and teeth were all over him, everywhere. When she felt the muscles in his lower abdomen start to convulse involuntarily, causing his hips to twitch upwards, pushing himself even deeper into her mouth, she knew the tension was building inside him. Hearing him groan deep in his chest and swear under his raspy breath made her own stomach flutter deliciously. The power she knew she was holding over him in these moments when she was completely in control, when he was at her mercy, filled her always not only with awe, but also with unspeakable tenderness. She quickened her pace and increased the pressure, moving one hand to his most vulnerable place, cupping his balls carefully and gently rolling them in her palm, her thumb stroking them in slow, circular moves.

 

Hook's head was thrown back in absolute abandonment while he shivered under his woman's sensual ministrations. The skin all over his body seemed to tingle with the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins, but all his feeling was concentrated in the center of his body. His hips had adapted to Emma's rhythm all by themselves and followed her lead completely; he was lost in her touch, her caresses and the strokes of her wicked tongue, while she was showing him how much of a fan she was of every part of him. Her mouth was warm, wet and tight around his throbbing flesh, and _loving –_ there was actually no other word for it. He'd always been a man who undeniably liked to be in command in bed, but _bloody hell_ , there was no harm in leaving his Swan in charge sometimes; she fairly well knew what she was doing, and she enjoyed doing it to him; the little sighs she let out while her mouth was making love to him, were the proof for that and fueled his arousal even more. When her moves started to get faster and fiercer, his breath became ragged, and his grasp on her hair stronger.

 

"God, Emma," he panted hoarsely, "you're going to kill me. I can't--"

 

And indeed, he couldn't. Holding back was not an option. His whole body bucked and was lifted from the mattress for a moment when every single muscle seemed to convulse at the peak of his pleasure. He literally saw stars dancing behind his closed eyelids when the whole world seemed to explode, and he spilled his hot release into her waiting mouth.

 

Emma welcomed all of it, stayed with him until the last drop and held him with her lips until his trembling subsided and total relaxation washed over his body, leaving all of him soft and motionless. Only then did she release him and, placing one last, soft kiss on his flat stomach, moved upwards along his body again. When she kissed the corner of his mouth, she still had his taste on her tongue and marveled, like always, at how close it came to the taste of salty tears.

 

He could muster just enough strength to pull her into a close embrace, but his voice was still not much in control and huskier than usual. "Emma, my love..."

 

She pressed a kiss against the side of his throat, his skin now damp with sweat, and smiled when she felt his pulse thrumming madly against her lips.

 

"Looks like someone had a nice birthday celebration," she purred.

 

Hook snorted a throaty laugh and smiled down at her. He kissed her and lingered tenderly on her lips that were red and swollen from her earlier activities. "By God, Swan, I love you," he murmured.

 

There was a little smugness in her grin. "I know."

 

He tilted his head. "I didn't mean because of your very talented mouth."

 

She ran her hand up his arm. "I have many talents."

 

"Aye, that you do," he replied and took one of her silky locks in his fingers, absentmindedly caressing it. "Especially the one to take the shadows from my past and cast them away with your light."

 

She looked up at him, into his earnest beautiful blue eyes, and their stares locked. Emma swallowed thickly, completely taken by surprise by his words. It filled her with happiness that, obviously, she'd managed to do something for him that he had done so many times for her. "So do you," she told him after a short pause.

 

“And your father and Henry... they knew all the time!” He tilted his head, his voice showing his amused admiration. “I knew the lad was a little pirate, but I must say, I didn't expect that much sneakiness from my mate Dave.”

 

Emma chuckled. “Getting you the boat was his idea,” she told Hook, “and he had very much fun on that fishing trip.”

 

He nodded slowly. “I'll be sure to thank him properly,” he replied seriously, “I'd never have expected anything like that.” Then he focused on her again and smiled. “But you know, the most precious gift lies right here beside me.”

 

She averted her eyes almost shyly; like she did most times when he got so very serious and unguarded with his emotions. But it wasn't fear, it was more awe – of the depth of his feelings for her, the courage with which he showed them and, last but not least, the realization how deeply and irrevocably she herself ad fallen in love with this man. As usual, she replied with a tease, breathing a kiss to his shoulder, her fingers playing with his chest hair.

 

“And don't forget the cake.”

 

“Ah, the cake, right,” he echoed slowly, thoughtfully, and popped the 't' a little. “Well, I must concede it was absolutely delicious.” The subtle change in the timbre of his voice made her stomach flutter a little. “But to be honest...” He paused for a heartbeat, and she looked up at him again just in time so see him run his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip before he went on: “I have yet to taste my favorite sweet today.” He brought his mouth to her right ear, and automatically, she tilted her head a little to give him better access to the expected kiss, but he sucked her earlobe between his teeth and bit down gently. She drew in a sharp breath. “But I have every intention to take it bit by bit now,” he murmured against her skin, and his hot breath flicking over the side of her throat made her shiver. Now he kissed his way down the side of her neck while his hand ran up over the silky skin of her flat stomach. She felt his tongue trailing lazily down her throat, and the contrast between its soft, moist tip and his rough stubble against her skin made her sigh. “I think I'm going to relish it slowly,” he went on in a hoarse voice, so deep and husky it was barely audible, “ _very_ slowly... feast on it...” His hand cupped her breast now while he was purring: “...devour it... taste it to the fullest...” So quickly she didn't even realize his lips wandered down, and suddenly she felt a thorough sweep of his profligate tongue over her right nipple while his thumb was slowly circling her left, and he added with diabolical glee in his voice: “... _savor_ it until the last bit.”

 

Emma arched her back and moaned now, and she heard him chuckle and opened her eyes. There she saw his right in front of her, so close was his face that she couldn't focus on anything else than on his eyes. “What is it, Swan?” he teased in an amused, very low voice. “Can't handle this old man?”

 

She swallowed and replied a little breathlessly, yet in a challenging tone: _“Watch me.”_

 

His smile, despite of all the teasing and innuendoing, was sincere and loving when he briefly bumped his nose against hers and promised: “Oh, I have every intention to do so, treasure.”

 

 


End file.
